University of Virginia Library

A SHORT RELATION OF A LONG IOURNEY Made ROUND or OVALL

A Taylors Bill, with few or no Items: by or for John Taylor.

Now in the seventy fourth yeare of mine Age,
I take an English and Welsh Pilgrimage:
From London first I bend my course to Chester,
And humbly I to all men am Requester;
That when I have past over Hills and Dales,
And compast with my Travels famous Wales,
That when to you that I a Book do give,
Relating how I did subsist and live,
With all my Passages both here and there,
And of my Entertainment every where.
Write but your Names and Dwellings in this Bill,
I'le finde you, for the Book give what you will.
Twelve Voyages and Journies I have past,
And now my Age sayes this may be my last.
My Travels Story shall most pleasant be
To you that read, though painfull unto me.

A Short Relation of a Long Iourny, &c.

A Traveller that loves to see strange Lands,
May be a man or not a man of's hands:
But yet 'tis very requisite and meet,
He should be furnish'd with good brains and feet;
For he that wants legs, feet, and brains, and wit,
To be a Traveller is most unfit:
And such am I by Age of strength bereft,
With one right leg, and one lame left leg left.
Beggers on their backs their brats do reare;
But I my issue in my leg do beare:
I dresse it often and impatiently
It lies and cries not, though it make me cry;
Yet I dare challenge Scottish Jock or Jackey,
Or any light-heel'd nimble footed Lackey,
To travell such a Jaunt as I have done,
With th'right leg going, and the left leg run:
Or if I please, the case I'le alter so,
To make the worst leg run, the best to goe.
And sure my heart was stout, men may suppose,
To venture Travell with such legs as those.
But there be some few that do understand,
'Tis merry walking with a horse in hand.
Such was my Lot, I had a stately Courser,
None courser quality'd, and for a worser,
There's neither Halifax, or Hull, nor Hell,
That for good parts my horse can parallel;
He was a beast, had heated been and cheated,
Too much hard over rid and under meated,
That he as gaunt as any Greyhound was,
And for a Horses Skelliton might passe:
You might have told his ribs, he was so thin,
And seen his heart and guts, but for his skin;
He was not pursie foggy, cloy'd with greace,
And like his Rider lov'd rest, ease, and peace:
Dun was, and is the Dumb beast, and was Done,
E're I begun, or he with me begun.
He had a black List, from the Mane to Taile,
Which is a colour that doth seldome faile:
To change of paces he had been inur'd,
But yet not one t'endure, or be endur'd;
His Trot would fling a Dagger out ot'h sheath,
Or jolt a man to death, or out of breath.
His Ambling was invisible to me,
From such smooth easie garbs his feet were free:
His common Pace in Sun-shine or in showre,
Was (as he pleas'd) about two mile an houre.
I never yet could put him in a sweat,
For he was never free, but at his meat.
Thus John upon Dun's back, were both Dun John,
And thus the tedious way we wandred on.
Now to proceed in order duly, truly,
I London left the thirteenth day of July:
The Wayes as faire as man could well desire,
'Cause I had none to draw Dun out o'th mire:
I fifteen miles (to Rislip) that day went,
Baited at Edgworth, to give Dun content;
There my acquaintance, of good fame and worth,
Did welcome me: the next day I set forth,
With Boots, Sans Spurs, with Whip, and Switch of Burch,
I got on, twenty miles to Stoken Church:
The fifteenth day, S. Swithin, I and Dun,
Did shuffle sixteen miles to Abington;
There till the Tuesday following I abode,
From thence I sixteen miles to great Tue rode,
There at the Swan mine Host was free and kind,
He had but one eye, tother side was blinde;
But surely he a right Good-fellow was,
And there one night my Dun did eat good grass.
On July's twenty one from Tue I went,
And unto Warwick strait my course I bent,
There did I find another signe o'th Swan,
Mine Hostesse kind, mine Host a Gentile man,
And for your love to me, good Master Venner,
With humble thanks I am your praises Penner.
My gratitude to Master Jacob Harmer,
His Drapers shop could never make me warmer,
Then high and mighty Warwick's drink did there,
It made my brains to Caper and careere,
It was of such invincible strong force,
To knock me (in five miles) twice from my Horse:
And sure I think the Drink was certainly
Infused with the conqu'ring ghost of Guy.
On July's two and twentieth day I came
Unto an ancient house call'd Hunningham,
There were two Ladies of good Worth and fame,
Whom for some reasons I forbeare to name:
Their Son and Grandson (John) I'le not forget,
He's nobly minded as a Baronet;
Foure dayes they kept me with exceeding cheere,
And gave me silver because Travels deare.
From thence my Journey 5 miles I pursue,
To Coventry, most famous for true blew;
There the faire Crosse of ancient high Renown
Stands firme, though other Crosses all are down.
'Tis a dry City, and dry let it be,
'Twas not made dryer one small drop for me:
Like a Camelion there I brake my fast,
And thence I twenty miles to Lichfield past;
There at the George I took my lodging up,
I well was lodg'd, and well did sup and cup,
When there by chance, I cast my wandring ey on
The ruin'd Church, with griefe I thought on Sion:
I sigh'd to see that sad confusion,
Like th'Hebrews by the Brook of Babylon.
On July's twenty seventh I rode alone
Full sixteen miles unto a Town call'd Stone.
Next day to Nantwich sixteen long miles more,
From thence to Chester near the Cambrian shore:
There was my welcome in such noble fashion,
Of which in Prose I'le make some briefe Relation.

[The next day when the Clock strook two and fowre]

The next day when the Clock strook two and fowre,
I mounted Dun, Dun mounted Penmen Mawre;
And if I do not take my aime amisse,
That lofty Mountain seems the Skies to kisse:
But there are other Hils accounted higher,
Whose lofty tops I had no mind t'aspire:
As Snowdon, and the tall Plinnillimon,
Which I no stomack had to tread upon.
Merioneth Mountains, and Shire Cardigan
To travell over, will tire horse and man:
I, to Bewmaris came that day and din'd,
Where I the good Lord Buckley, thought to find:
But he to speak with me had no intent,
Dry I came into's house, dry out I went.
I left Bewmaris, and to Bangor trac'd it,
Ther's a brave Church, but Time and War defac'd it:
For Love and Mony I was welcome thither,
'Tis merry meeting when they come together.